


Minerva's child

by Rena95



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 06:17:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7703722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rena95/pseuds/Rena95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where Minerva had insisted Harry not been sent to Privet Drive to live with the Dursleys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Minerva's child

**Author's Note:**

> Some things are OOC but its based on what would hace happened if people's (Harry and Minerva) pasts had happened differently

When he was one, Rubeus Hagrid lifted him from his cot and whisked him away from the site that marked the loss of his parents. Despite the man's girth, Hagrid cradled little Harry as tenderly as his mother once had. Harry swayed gently as Hagrid mounted the motorbike, and the kicked off in to the air. The night air was cold and ripped in to the infant, and Hagrid tucked him under his coat.

At Hogwarts, already aware of the tragedy, Hagrid was met by a grim faced Albus Dumbledore and equally grim Minerva McGonnagall.   
“Hand the child to me, Hagrid.” The witch was not unkind, but left no room for negotiation. “I’ll care for him.”  
“Minerva, I’ve already prepared for him to live with his aunt and uncle.”  
“No Albus. You have a great mind but even you are not above being wrong. Those are the worst of muggles. This boy would grow up without love, and without care.” She had checked the registers already, and Harry was listed to join the school. He was magical, he would stay.  
“They are his only family.”  
“Not anymore.” Minerva whipped around, and stalked back up to the castle. “Not anymore.” She said more softly, away from the two men, she carefully brushed a lock of hair from Harry’s face, and stroked the cheek of the sleeping child.  
Not a month had passed, and Minerva was the epitome of a doting parent. Where she went, Harry went. Despite Dumbledore’s protests, Harry stayed. Minerva convinced all of the staff that the child was safer behind the strong walls of the castle. No blood magic was stronger than the safety of Hogwarts.

As Harry learned to walk and to talk, Minerva found herself in a conundrum. Was Harry to call her mother? Her heart ached with guilt when she thought of Lily Potter and the wonderful mother she never got the chance to be. But Harry still needed a mother… and she was here where Lily couldn’t be.  
When Harry toddled over to her and said “mama” for the first time, it was all she could do to keep smiling and not let him see her tears. Mama she became.

She found with delight that Harry had a quick and ready mind. He devoured the information she fed to him, and learned fast of math, literacy, and had keen grasp on the sciences. He learned of spells, charms, and transfiguration, and Minerva was excited for the day she could begin to train him in practical magic. Her joy was unmatched when she bought Harry a children’s broom, and he sailed on it like a natural, and had the true reflexes of a seeker whenever she tossed a toy snitch in the air. Many a glorious afternoon did they spend down at the pitches, and she taught him with delight all about quidditch. 

When term started and Harry was old enough that Minerva could leave him alone for a few hours at a time, or without Hagrid, his babysitter, he roamed the halls, as happy as could be. He made fast friends with the ghosts, who grew to be fiercely protective of him. Even Peeves would be careful of the sorts of pranks he would pull on young Harry. The Grey Lady watched him with questioning eyes. Of course, his appointed godfather was always overjoyed when Harry came knocking on his cabin door. The older children, during the times between their lessons and they scurried through the halls always pointed and stared, sometimes one would run up to him to touch his face before darting away again, but his mama was always close by to usher him away and reprimand those tactless students.

She knew as Harry was a clever child, the matter of his obvious adoption would not remain hidden from him long, it was clear from looking that there was no real biological connection between the two, and children tended to look like their parents.   
“Harry.” She sat him down one day and handed him a photo of James who had the same bone structure, dark hair and skin as Harry, and Lily who gave him her eyes. “It’s time you and I had a long talk. About your parents.”  
By the end, they were both in tears. “Thank you for telling me.” He said, his voice strangled, and then wrapped her in a hug. Too much for Minerva, she broke down in hysterics, and they held each other until they were calm.  
“Now you see,” Said she at last, “Why the other children revere you so. You’re famous round the globe.”  
“I never asked to be.”   
“I know.” She replied, heart squeezing in her chest. She didn’t dare wonder what Harry would call her now.

On his seventh birthday, the celebration was enormous. The hall filled with the ghosts, Minerva’s brothers and nieces and nephews, the staff save one, and a student, Charlie Weasley, whom he had befriended, and a special guest Remus Lupin, who took joy in telling Harry wonderful things about his old friends, Harry’s parents. Minerva stood back while the two of them talked, and when Dumbledore offered Lupin a bed for him to stay for a few days to talk to Harry, Minerva was glad when Remus accepted to get to know Harry better.   
Those days would be forever cherished by Harry, but Minerva knew when she looked in to his eyes, that Harry was not the same boy as he was some days ago. It hurt her to see pain move in to his heart, when she’d done all she could to protect him from that. On voicing her agony to Dumbledore, he told her, “Harry is a wonderful and brave boy. His ability to know pain and still be full of love may well be his strongest quality.” Minerva found solace in the words, and when her son returned to her with his arms opened wide and an apology ready on his lips, she knew Dumbledore may well be right.  
“You don’t have anything to apologise for.” She smiled.  
“It couldn’t have been fun for you, me learning about my other parents.”  
“Other parents?”  
He smiled, “Well, you’re my mama too.”

Harry was a cheerful boy, and made friends wherever he went. He had befriended Charlie Weasley when he was young, and other students besides. Every Christmas, Harry delighted in presents under the tree, and found every year a knitted jumper with the letter H stitched on the front. He and his mama visited Charlie’s home with an invitation from his mother, who insisted on a playdate between Harry and her youngest son. That day, Harry met his best friend, and since that day spent weekends and sometimes weeks at The Burrow, loved by all the Weasleys. Many a splendid evening were spent there, and Harry found his second family, with brothers and a sister he didn’t know he had wanted. Minerva was overjoyed Harry had friends, and knew the Weasley’s were good stock. She was due to take the twins in her classes in a few years.

As loving as Harry’s adoptive mother was, a damp cloud hung over his childhood. He was forbidden from the dungeons, and at meals he always sat by her side, as far away from Severus Snape as was possible. Harry never heard his mama say his name without contempt, and whenever chance had Snape and Harry in a corridor at the same time, the man was colder than a ghost. He never looked at Harry, but once Harry had caught him staring with the strangest of expressions on his face. Harry would not have thought that guilt, hatred, and sadness could all exist on one person’s face all at the same time, but found that on Snape’s face one day in the great hall over dinner. He caught his mama give him a stern look, and Snape looked away, humiliated and furious.

One evening, when Harry was ten, Dumbledore called Minerva up to his office, and she knew on this occasion that the following conversation would change her life, although she had no other reason for believing so than that she had a feeling. While Dumbledore spoke about his suspicions of Harry’s destiny, and the prophecy he had been named in, it was all Minerva could do to not throw up. She hadn’t felt nausea so profoundly since she found out about the Potters’ deaths. It was a credit to her own strength she remained as composed as she did until she returned to her own quarters, and proceeded to break down and cry. How could it be that such a sweet boy, the boy she had grown to love now for a decade was living on what could well only be borrowed time? The thought he could be snatched away from her was… utterly unthinkable. Harry returned to their quarters a short while later, stepping out from the fireplace, and it was all Minerva could do to smile at her brave boy although her heart had shattered. She relived the whole devastating experience again when she told him two years later, she implored Dumbledore to let her to be the one to tell him.

On the day of his eleventh birthday, Minerva sat Harry down and handed him his letter. His delight was tangible. She bought him his wand, his robes, everything he could possibly need. On their return to their shared living room, an owl awaited them addressed to Harry from his godfather. September 1st, and Harry’s excitement was unmatched. “Mama,” He asked, “What house do you think I’ll be?”  
“I don’t know, Harry. Gryffindor is my house, but wherever you end up, I’ll still love you.” She ruffled his hair and he grinned. “It would probably be best in class if you addressed me as Professor as well.”   
Harry frowned. “I understand.”  
“Just during class.”  
“Okay mama.” He smiled.  
Minerva escorted him to Hogsmeade station so that Harry could partake in the traditional boat trip across the lake, and he returned with Ron on one side and a boy, Draco Malfoy on the other. She could see the tension between the two boys, but Harry was either oblivious or chose to ignore it. She smiled at him and shook her head, and led the first years into the side room to await their sorting. It was a tremendous surprise when Harry was sorted in to Slytherin. He smiled coyly at her while he walked past to a table of screaming and clapping housemates. With a fierce look of determination on his face, Ron was also sorted in front of the school in to Slytherin, the Sorting Hat declaring so with a chagrined voice. After the feast, Harry was confused to hear Minerva tell him he would no longer be staying in his bedroom during term, but in the Slytherin dormitories, but was reassured she would still be nearby, and Ron and Draco would be with him now too.

Before the staff disbanded, Minerva pulled Severus to one side and poured her heart out to him. She begged him not to let personal past experiences cloud how he dealt with the present, and do not forget why Harry was an orphan now. He had loved Lily, and Voldemort had murdered her. We are all part of a war against him, and that would mean being civil and professional towards Harry, even if compassion wasn’t within his capabilities. With a curled lip, Snape agreed and swore he would not willingly cause Harry any upset, but Minerva was not reassured when she retired to her quarters, now noticeably missing Harry’s presence.

Harry was a friendly child and revelled in finally being surrounded with students his own age. During breaks or after teaching hours were over Minerva was often faced with Harry introducing her to whomever he had made friends with this week.  
“Mama, this is Neville. He’s good at Herbology.”  
“Meet Susan Bones.”  
“This is my new friend Padma Patil.”  
Of course, Harry was almost always in the company of a select few, Ron, Hermione whom they had saved from a troll their first year, Draco, and Ginny Weasley, all of whom Minerva was surprised to find were his closest friends, and whose initial alliance she knew was uneasy and instable. But if anyone was going to be a stubborn uniting force, she knew it would be Harry. She could tell by the way Harry fought and argued for them all to get along that there was more going on with his friendship with the young Malfoy that he would let on. The two of them were the furthest from subtle, especially when they each passionately defended the other, and had to stop themselves from saying something even remotely suggestive. She was completely unastonished therefore, when she caught the two of them twined together in a secret passage one evening.   
“Mama!” Harry floundered, and Draco, looking on the verge of tears, scurried as far and fast away as he was able. He frowned as Draco left. “I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you.”  
“Don’t apologise. Why didn’t you?”  
“I was scared. I didn’t know what you’d say.”  
“Harry…” She drew him in to a hug. “There is nothing you could do to ever make me stop loving you.”  
He hugged her tightly in return. “We were just worried. It’s all new, and scary and his father found out and wasn’t so accepting and we thought well if anyone else found out what would happen?”  
“I can see why you were scared. But listen to me Harry, I would never want to interfere with the person you are meant to be. I want you to have faith in me.”  
“I do, mama. I was just…”  
“Scared, I know.”  
“I think I should go and find him.”  
Minerva let him go and nodded. “Assure Mr Malfoy, that the two of you can have trust in me, if you would prefer nobody else found out. Or if he ever needs somebody to talk to.”  
Harry nodded and sped off in the direction Draco departed, frowning as he left. She watched him and wondered just how many times that boy would break her heart.  
Neither Harry nor Draco showed any indication in the weeks and months following the altercation that they had been found out, or that there was anything to find out, but Minerva noticed Draco’s added politeness towards her, and his turning to her with small problems that he could use her help with. She contented herself with the small amounts of trust she believed she earned from him. Slowly, he began to warm to her, and slowly, she saw him relax and become more confident around her, especially when Harry was nearby.

It was a strain on Minerva’s nerves to find over the next few years that Harry had a knack for danger. He suddenly found himself more and more in harm’s way unlike he had ever been. Trolls, skirmishes with Lord Voldemort, Basilisks, a treacherous flying car, a deranged serial killer of an ex-godfather (who, alright, turned out to be innocent , and Minerva watched Harry closely while he exchanged letters thereafter with Sirius Black, an older male figure in his life she knew he had been deprived of), the world cup which turned in to a death eater raid, a deranged death eater rigging a contest he was never meant to be entered for which again turned out to be bait to get Harry close to You-Know-Who… Minerva could recall the terrors every time her eyes shut. It was with horrified pride to discover that her son never lost his morals or his integrity, despite all the terrible things he had faced in those four years. He had saved his best friend’s sister, he had tried to save the school, he never lost faith, and he always honoured his friends. That buzzard of a reporter Rita Skeeter could not (not for lack of trying) wrangle so much as a word out of Harry much less an interview. Despite her detesting the very thought of her special boy being in harm’s way, she was infinitely proud of his strength of character and his good heart. It was his word that roused the wizarding world into caution when he recounted the resurrection of Riddle.

His fifth year was marked by the appearance of hell incarnate, Dolores Umbridge. The revolting woman wasted no time in landing Harry in detention, and Harry wasted no time after completing his punishment in confronting his mama about what the vile woman had done, showing her the pale scars on the back of his hand. Minerva saw red. Harry himself had to subdue her before she stormed Dolores’s office and had her writhing at the mercy of a curse. The pair, along with an armful of written statements from other students Dolores had already locked away in detention stormed Dumbledore’s office. Outraged as he was, there was nought he could do, nobody was available to fill the position of Defense Against The Dark Arts professor. All the two could do was decline her ability to host detentions, instead heads of houses were to conduct detentions of their own students. Tragically, Umbridge went over their heads and superimposed herself with unmatched power over students and staff in Hogwarts. 

That same year, after a confrontation with Sybil Trelawney and another with Rubeus Hagrid, Minerva herself was caught in the crossfire of Dolores Umbridge and Hogwarts, in defending Hagrid from expulsion. Harry, in the midst of his Astronomy O.W.L instantly recognised his mama’s figure, and ran as fast as his legs would carry him from the top of the tower, hardly hearing the gasps and warnings that he should return, sprinting through the castle and towards the great doors. He began his descent down the path towards the hut just as four of them drew their wands. “Expelliarmus” tore itself from his throat in an explosion of his fury. Still running, he fired spell after spell at the number of aurors still engaged in the scuffle. As he drew near, blinded by fury, Harry punched one square in the jaw, and was promptly caught by an all too familiar iron grip. He turned, expecting to see the furious face of his mama, but her expression was quite unreadable. She clipped him around the head and called him an idiot, before wrapping him in a gigantic hug. “You silly boy, you’ll have failed this OWL now.”  
“I don’t care!” He shouted, “You would have been hit by four of them before you had even drawn your wand.”  
“I know, I know.” She replied soothingly, stroking his hair.  
“What would that have even done to you? You’d have been in St Mungos for sure.” Harry was livid.  
Harry was sent to fetch Dumbledore while Minerva watched over the disgraced aurors, and on his return he was escorted back to the astrology tower, where Professor Tofty agreed Harry may take his exam the following day, provided he did not engage in any further revision that he had not already covered, and given the chance to calm down after tonight’s’ events. “I’m glad you’re okay.” Tofty said fretfully, as they two of them departed.

Harry was gifted in most of his studies, not quite the genius his trusted friend Hermione Granger was, but smart enough, and he did well, often competing amicably with Draco on who could achieve higher. Given, like most students Harry didn’t care much for History of Magic or the farce that was Divination, but in practical magic he was among the best. That was until he had to start learning occlumency, and following his lessons, Minerva noticed how they seemed to drain him and deprive him of sleep. Worst of all, she detested the thought of what Snape could be doing to her son, knowing his dislike of Harry stemmed back to times before Harry had even met him. He began having more severe visions which took a larger toll on him, and each were followed by slanderous articles by Rita Skeeter about how her son was unhinged. They gained terrible traction, but since most of the students knew and trusted Harry, and the damage wasn’t what it could have been in more fraught circumstances.

When one evening Harry raced to her one night with tears in his eyes and claiming Black had been attacked and was close to death at the ministry, she didn’t hesitate to ask him if he was sure, his saving Arthur Weasley some months earlier was enough proof for her. She only just managed to convince him to go to headquarters via floo from her office, and check just to be on the safe side. At Grimmauld place, the two were tremendously relived to find Sirius merely upstairs, in his old room with Buckbeak. Harry flew in to Sirius’s chest and was instantly wracked with tears. The three of them had a very long talk that same night, and decided it best if maybe Harry received extra support with occlumency. Dumbledore’s arrival shortly after shed light to his theory of why Voldemort tried to lure him to the ministry, and why he had been so detached from Harry this whole year. Midway through his explanation, Harry fell, seizing, to the floor, begging for death in a high, ghostly voice. Minerva and Sirius were equally horrified, staring at the boy the two of them loved deeply with ice running through their veins. It was Dumbledore who spoke with Voldemort, and Dumbledore who helped Harry to reclaim his body, thorough his love and fear of losing Black, his friends, and his mama.

A crackdown took hold from the very next day, Dumbledore battled with Cornelius Fudge regarding the return of Voldemort, Harry, Minerva, and Harry’s friends tried in vain to correct the slanderous fabrications of other students of Harry’s mind being compromised. Sirius, still not convincingly acquitted of Pettigrew’s crimes, was told again to remain in the safety of Grimmauld place, but was satisfied with bi-weekly floo-messages from Harry. Harry heard on his return that Dolores Umbridge had heard of Harry, Minerva, and Dumbledore’s departure from the school, and had interrogated Hermione, Ron, Draco, Ginny, and Neville about what they knew. It was a credit to Hermione’s quick wit that she tricked Ginny in to helping her lure Umbridge into the depths of the forbidden forest under the guise of “Dumbledore’s Secret Weapon” and watched her be taken by the centaurs, pleading for their own lives to be spared.

His sixth year, a noticeable change in the dynamics of the school. During the few weeks Harry spent with the Weasleys and away from home, Hagrid as well as Madame Olympe Maxime were sent away on a quest from Dumbledore in an attempt to convince the Giants not to join with the rising dark forces. Some weeks in to the year, Dumbledore told Minerva of his new suspicions about the challenges they all faced with Tom Riddle and Horcruxes and how Harry tied in to it all. She had thought before that there was nothing more that could grow more worried about Harry, having already known his fate lay twined with Voldemort’s, but she found that this prior assumption was wrong. However, it was Minerva who quickly recognised patterns in Riddle’s magpie like tendencies, and she who realised that he would have chosen memorabilia from each of the founders to use as a horcrux. Her realisation was however to little avail. Ravenclaw’s diadem had been lost for centuries. Minerva was also bothered when Harry told her he and Draco had parted ways. Draco had become cold and detached and paranoid, and try as Harry might, he could not get Draco to open up to him. Bothered as she was, Minerva conceded sometimes it just happened between people, especially couples as young as they were. 

Harry was not so easily placated, despite advice from Hermione and Ron, and took to secretly following Draco everywhere, and although he didn’t want to think anything bad of his ex, had the niggling feeling Draco was really up to no good, and employed on a secret mission from Voldemort. A confrontation later in the year in which Harry had used a harmless enough levicorpus charm on Draco from the school book he had been borrowing (he had considered the sectumspemra spell that had been written in cramped handwriting, but couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a dangerous curse and disregarded it, especially as it said for enemies below it and Harry really hoped and prayed that enemies was one thing the two of them weren’t) led to Draco breaking down and having a heart to heart with Harry, and confessing the what he had been tasked with and what he had been doing sneaking around the whole year. Harry felt sick to his stomach, and didn’t realise Severus Snape had entered the bathroom until he felt the cold hand clamp around his shoulder. Snape cut Draco down and ordered him to wait for him in his office before rounding on Harry. Head of house or not, Severus could not quell the rising loathing as he questioned Harry and bid him to fetch his potions book. Harry pleaded with Severus, he had just discovered Voldemort’s plan to use Draco to kill Dumbledore, but still Severus insisted and Harry sped off to hide his copy in the Room of Requirement, and sped back with Ron’s copy.

After Severus let Harry go, Harry went straight to Dumbledore and told him about the vanishing cupboard, electing not to drop any names about whom he had learned this information from. Dumbledore however, seemed unfazed and told Harry there was nought to worry about, and sent a seething Harry back to his common room, where Harry rounded on Ron and vented everything that had just happened. Months later though, to Harry’s despair and numbed hatred, it was Severus Snape that cast the curse that stole Dumbledore’s life, and Severus Snape who dragged Draco along with him although Harry could hear Draco’s sobs as he ran from Harry to the gates of the grounds. It was Harry who refused to believe that Draco was still innocent, despite what had come about, and it was true that Draco had been lowering his wand when the death eaters climbed the stairs and to goad him in to it, Harry desperately didn’t want to believe Draco wanted anything to do with it.

The following year, when the world seems tiptoeing across a razors edge or risk falling in to chaos and mayhem, Minerva is distressed and terrified at Bill and Fleur’s wedding when she discovers Harry has disappeared, along with Ron and Hermione. Again, she finds herself heartbroken and inconsolable, and her return to Hogwarts leaves her abject without her son. She knows where he’s gone, in search of the pieces of Voldemort’s soul, and she knows if he doesn’t then there is nothing to stop Voldemort seizing further power, but all the same, her heart is in her throat and it is her son out there now risking his life every day. She continues to teach at Hogwarts, under the reign of Severus Snape as headmaster, and Hogwarts, her once safe place, turns into the arena of her living nightmare. The Carrows, notorious deatheaters, come into employment, and head of punishment, to her distress they waste no time in using unforgivable curses on the students and weighing her options, Minerva feels powerless to do much more than to refuse to transfer students to them. When Michael Corner is violently tortured for releasing a first year, she swiftly puts an end to it, fearing for her life and Michael’s life the entire time. When The Carrows chase Neville along the halls hellbent on killing him, Minerva thought sure she was going to have a heart attack from fear. When students begin slipping away to live in the room of requirement, she takes charge in doing all she can to provide food and supplies they need to survive, although she is almost always intercepted and threatened and sometimes worse. When Colin Creevey is left suspended in a cage floating above the tables in the great hall for valiantly declaring his faith in Harry and Ron and Hermione, it is her who casts the imperius curse to get Alecto to bring him down. This year, she finds it is hard to still know who she is, she begins to forget her morals and toying with the idea of just using Avada Kedavra on the Carrows just to be rid of them and ensure the safety of her students. She prays every night to a God she doesn’t believe in for the safety of each individual child, and of course Harry and Hermione wherever they may be, and Ron, despite his walking out on them. This news of course adds an extra tonne of fears and concerns to the pit of her stomach. She protects the students as best as she can, and opens up her office hours to all hours of the day, her classroom becomes a safe spot for students to turn to, even if she is teaching it is not unusual for other students to spend their breaks in the back of her room where they can be sure they feel safer and protected. They trust her immediately, Harry’s never-ending faith in her while he was here was a catalyst in securing this belief, and on her recommendation, Flitwick, Slughorn, and Sprout also become trusted sources of solace, although she knew the students trusted and preferred her immensely.

And then one night following a ruckus in Ravenclaw tower, Minerva found herself confronting Amycus Carrow, and found herself on the receiving end of a mouthful of spit. Before she could even muster her anger and draw her wand, Amycus is writhing on the floor screaming in agony, and Harry is standing over him with an expression of unmatched fury and his wand trained straight at him, jetting a stream of red light. She was almost satisfied to let Harry continue to torture him, but couldn’t for the love she had for him, allow him to rise to their level, and she stopped him. She did however, scald him and draw Harry in to an impossibly tight hug, peppering his face with kisses, overwhelmingly pleased to see him.  
Minerva tightly bound up the Carrows and ensured the safety of the Ravenclaws before turning to face Harry again. She wanted nothing more to grab him by the arm and march him away from the castle into a much safer location and protect him for the rest of time. Instead, she let him go again, and the two of them and Luna (who appeared from nowhere) dove back in to danger to finish what he had come to do. After a brief confrontation with Snape, Minerva and the rest of the staff departed to begin casting safety enchantments over the school. She immediately collaborates with the other heads to organise an evacuation of all and any students who don’t want to stay and fight. Anything she can do to protect Harry. And anything to protect the other students. It wouldn’t be long before He arrived. A short while later, Minerva noticed a black mass of gathering Death Eaters beyond the grounds, and Minerva’s hands turned cold and clammy. She and the other staff have done all they can do, Pomona down at the greenhouses collecting bubertuber pus, Hagrid stood poised with a crossbow on one arm and a half giant standing beside him with an uprooted tree as if it were a bat, and she had sent Neville and Seamus to destroy the wooden footbridge which would surely hinder their attack. Minerva didn’t feel remotely reassured. She was sure good people were going to die in the following hours and there would be nothing she could do about it. Acromantula began pouring out of the forest and she shuddered, turning away to busy herself with something… anything else.

And suddenly the battle had commenced. Minerva didn’t notice the exact moment but all of a sudden they were being descended upon and spells began flying like red hot hornets, destructive to anything they fell upon. She battled defensively, instantly leaping to the aid of any student who seemed up against an opponent more than twice their size which unfortunately, was nearly all of them. She lost count of how many times she cast a protego charm or a disarming charm, but she was sure her every move counted, and she was sure that she had managed to save the life of at least one student. She hurried past Flitwick who cast a tremendous brittle bone curse, and hurdled over to Colin Creevey, who it appeared had not evacuated as he had been ordered, and was doing battle with a rather pimply death eater. “Get to safety!” She bellowed and plunged back in to the thick of the battle. She didn’t look back as to whether Colin had actually done as she bid. 

Sometime later the battle fell in to a lull, and the Death Eaters retreated. Then Voldemort’s voice, high and piercing, emanated from the walls, and demanded Harry surrender himself in the next hour so everyone would be spared. Minerva’s throat closed and her knees sagged. She knew Harry would do it. She knew that her boy didn’t have an immoral fibre in his body and was noble to a fault. She never dreamed she would be this person, with so much of her happiness tied up in the welfare of another person, but now, with Voldemort demanding her son as ransom for their lives… she couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t stand it and she sprinted in to the castle, colliding with Molly Weasley. She was led in to the Great Hall where the dead and injured were lain in rows of makeshift cots. The Weasleys were gathered around Fred, who had fallen early in the battle. Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks also lay still and not moving, and Minerva felt a heavy wave of nausea and self-repulsion as she passed Colin Creevey and a very pale Lavender Brown. Ron and Hermione entered the hall looking frantic, confirming Minerva’s gut feeling that Harry had surrendered himself, and fell into a nearby cot. Poppy gave her a goblet of something thick and pearly white to drink with a heady scent pouring off it, but Minerva took a small sip and refused the rest, hating the way the edge came off her nerves, and the slight feeling of being relaxed spread through her muscles. She knew if she drank the rest, she would forget her terror and everything else she felt in the wake of The Battle.

Then, by some base instinct that they all must have felt, they filed outside, where an army of death eaters were assembled, and where Lord Voldemort stood gloating, pointing to a corpse in Hagrid’s arms.  
“Harry Potter is dead!”  
Minerva screamed as if her entire world had ended. She screamed so hard she was sure her vocal chords would detach. She screamed as she recounted all the moments of pure joy and anguish she had shared with Harry the past nearly seventeen years. She wanted to collapse and break down crying, she wanted to storm across the yard and strangle Voldemort with her bare hands, she didn’t know what she wanted except for Harry. She felt surely, there was nothing more for her now that Harry was gone and she was certain that her heart was physically shattering in to tiny bits of confetti and rubble, but as she started across the yard, it was Molly who pulled her back and wrapped her arms around her, quelling her shrieks as she sobbed. It didn’t occur to her at that moment that Molly had also lost a son that day, or what would feel like two given how close she had gotten to Harry as well. Her screams had been matched by Ron, Hermione, and Draco, whom all were very obviously distraught. Draco was pale and trembling, ignoring the way her parents were crooning for him to re-join them.

And then Neville had limped across and cemented her grief with a speech about the importance of what Harry had done for them. Voldemort laughed and placed the sorting hat on Neville’s head before setting him alight. While his back is turned, Neville leapt and sliced the head off Voldemort’s snake, and Harry fell from Hagrid’s arms. Draco was the first to move, screaming “Harry!” and sprinting to Harry’s side. Immediately, chaos broke out again and hope rekindled Minerva’s determination to fight. Dozens of loosed arrows flew through the air with deadly aim and struck down dozens of death eaters. Minerva cast curse after curse at the hooded figures, not caring about anything else except that they would discontinue attacking her students. She saw briefly Molly Weasley cast the tell-tale pale green curse at Bellatrix Lestrange, saw Grawp smash the skulls of two death eaters together and saw their lifeless bodies collapse to the floor. She seemed to see everything except Harry. And then she saw him shrug off his invisibility cloak and cast a protective spell over Molly Weasley. And then he’s explaining to Voldemort why his plans never succeeded. When behind the scenes Voldemort repeatedly failed to recognise the possibility of wavering servitude. When Snape and Draco and Draco’s parents allegiance to him, he was never the priority, surviving was. And why now none of his curses could stick. His self-sacrifice gave them the same protection Lily’s protection gave him in the first place. That and the wand he bore was rightfully sworn in allegiance to him. Harry goaded him in to testing out the theory, and Voldemort jabs the wand at him with a killing curse. Harry casts the disarming spell at the same time and instantly they are wandlocked in priori incantatem, his red beam meeting Voldemort’s green one. Everyone around them stilled and watched the two fight it out, a pure battle of their wills. Everything after that moved quickly.   
The Elder wand’s curse rebounds, and cartwheels through the air to Harry’s hand. At the same time, Voldemort falls to the ground with a soft thump, and silence emanates through the air. 

Minerva almost trips over her own robes running over to Harry, but when she reaches him, the two hold each other in their arms, Minerva not caring that she was crying freely. The hall filled with jubilant screams and jeers of joy and relief and celebration, but she couldn’t find it within herself at that moment to care about anything or anyone other than the boy she currently held in her arms. I’ll never let him go again, she thought, and hadn’t meant anything as much as she meant those words. He was alive, and she loved him, and that was all that mattered. As she let him go, and held him at arm’s length to soak him in, he was snatched from her and momentarily panic flared up in her once more. That was, until she saw it was Draco Malfoy who had pulled him away and in to a hug, and in the heat of the moment let his guard down and kissed him. The cheers around them seemed to thicken and swell, and Minerva looked around at the exhausted but jubilant faces around her, and saw numerous people hugging and clinging on to each other. Arthur dipped Molly in to a Hollywood worthy kiss, Ron had pulled Hermione in to a tight hug, Dean and Seamus joined in the jubilant display of affection and smacked lips, as did numerous assembled wizards and witches. And again Harry was stolen, but this time by Sirius who pulled him in to another rib-crunching hug and told him how proud he was of him, and eventually the entire crowd moved to descend upon him, slapping his back and singing praises. She saw him quickly and skilfully duck under his cloak, and noticed how Ron, Hermione, and Draco also seemed to disappear.

19 years later and Harry and his friends had taken to the wizarding world as adults with gusto, well known and revered wherever they went. Of course, the talented seeker he was, Harry went on to play quidditch professionally, and upon his retirement taught Defense Against the Dark Arts back at Hogwarts, welcomed by his mama who had become headmistress, and his good friend Neville who now taught herbology. He no longer lived in Hogwarts castle though, but he and Draco had bought a cottage in Hogsmeade where they lived with three pet ferrets. Hermione and Ron lived in Godric’s Hollow with their children, as did Sirius and Teddy, his second godson. Harry’s scar hadn’t hurt since that fateful day of Voldemort’s demise, and he was glad for it. All was well.


End file.
